


Trust

by Elri (angelrider13)



Series: Resist Order 66 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aayla wants to take all the hurt away, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bly is absolutely not okay with this, Gen, Order 66, Order 66 doesn't go exactly the way it's supposed to, Read at Your Own Risk, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelrider13/pseuds/Elri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bly has never broken his General's trust.</p><p>Aayla's back has never been wounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bly

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://angelrider13.tumblr.com/post/134139914942/order-66-au) is the thought I had yesterday morning that prompted this pain train.
> 
> Seriously, guys. Tissues. Have them.

Bly is following his General through a jungle when he hears it. He’s at his General’s right shoulder, just as he always is, ready to defend, to protect, to issue orders, to do whatever he needs to do. He’s at his General’s back because she trusts him to be there and to guard it and he has no intentions of ever failing her in that.

But then he hears it.

_Execute Order 66._

Bly feels cold wash over him and his blaster suddenly feels heavy in his hands.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

Bly is a good soldier, has always been a good soldier – it’s why he’s General Secura’s Commander. He follows the orders that he is given. But not without question, never without question. Because Jedi aren’t made for war and General Secura told him as much when they first met at the start of this mess. She needed him to help. And if he thought something was wrong, she told him not to hesitate asking. Because following orders blindly is a good way to get killed.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

He feels his arms come up, blaster in hand, and he’s screaming but no one seems to hear him. This is _wrong_ , there is nothing right about this. General Secura is _his_ and he was _made for her_ so why is this happening? This is not the kind of order he should follow. He won’t, he _can’t –_

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

He hears his men beside him raise their blasters the same time he does. He sees his General straighten and glance at them in surprise before spinning quickly to look through the trees, lightsaber in hand, ready to use. He’s shouting at her in his head – telling her that she’s facing the wrong way. The threat isn’t in front of them, it’s behind her. But he knows his General, knows what she’s thinking. Knows that she _trusts_ them and that they have obviously seen a threat that she has missed. Except –

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

Except they are the threat.

He grits his teeth, finger curling around the trigger even as his mind is at war with itself. It’s not working, he knows it’s not working. So Bly stops pulling. Instead he _pushes_ just as he pulls the trigger. His shot catches the General in her right shoulder. Non-fatal.

Before she can react, Crackshot fires. Left hip. Non-fatal.

And even though he’s still screaming, Bly and his brothers open fire on their General’s unprotected back. Unprotected. Because they are supposed to be protecting it. Because she trusted them with it. And now they are breaking that trust.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

Upper back. Non-fatal.

Left thigh. Non-fatal.

General Secura goes down, but they keep firing and Bly feels every blow.

Left shoulder. Non-fatal.

Left arm. Non-fatal.

Right hip. Non-fatal.

Right torso. Non-fatal.

General Secura is still now, her body jerking each time a shot connects.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

_I DID!_ Bly shouts back, jerking his blaster up and away.

“Hold!” he yells, finally, _finally_ , able to speak.

His men stop immediately. He’s kneeling by his General before he even realizes what he’s doing. She’s still conscious and Bly _aches_ when he sees the look in her normally bright brown eyes. She’s looking up at him, eyes full of recognition – full of pain and surprise and _betrayal_ – and Bly wants to weep. To break down right there and beg for forgiveness.

But he can’t because he can hear that _thing_ in his head stirring at the sight of his General still alive. He crushes it viciously and shoves it into the darkest corner of his mind.

_Bly?_

He chokes.

His General’s voice is in his head.

His General’s voice is in his head and it is so full of hurt and confusion.

“Commander?” he hears Tyto call from behind, his voice shaken and broken, “Is she -?”

“General Secura is dead,” Bly says firmly, even as he gestures Patch over. His General is looking up at him still, her eyes remaining on his and he can’t look away. “I’m sorry, General,” he says softly, only for her, “Order 66, we had to. I’m so sorry. Please sleep. I know you can’t trust us anymore, but _please_.”

He chokes, his voice catching in his throat. He feels Patch place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, before rummaging through his medkit. General Secura keeps looking at him – he can feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on his shoulders.

And then she nods – just a slight tip of her head – and her eyes slide shut. Bly doesn’t know if it’s because she still trusts them or if it’s because she knows she has no other choice. He doesn’t know which option hurts more.

“Tyto. Barr,” he calls, “Go prep the General’s star fighter.”

He’s still not looking at them – still can’t look anywhere but his General’s face, slack with unconsciousness but far from peaceful. But he hears the “Sir” and footsteps leaving. He feels more than sees his men gather around them in a loose circle. Patch is quick, applying becta gel and bandages, lips pressed together in a grim line.

“What have we done?” Crackshot asks in a choked, horrified whisper that still manages to somehow echo in the air around them.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

Bly’s hand curl into fists so tight his gloves creak from the strain. “We followed orders,” he answers tonelessly.

No one says anything.

They can’t.

They have no idea what just happened.

All they know is that they just failed their General in the worst possible way. And there is no way they will _ever_ be able to make up for it.

Patch sits back, blowing out a long breath. “I’ve done what I can,” he says, “But it’s bad. And she can’t stay here with us.”

Bly nods. He knows as well as his brothers that the voice in their heads isn’t gone. He can feel it pushing in the back of his mind, shoving against the corner he’s forced it into. His head is pounding with the worst headache he’s ever had in his life and it’s getting worse by the second.

“No, she can’t,” he agrees, shoving his blaster at the medic before carefully – oh so carefully – scooping up his General.

Her body is completely limp, her head lolling awkwardly against his shoulder. But she’s warm. Bly can feel the tell-tale rise and fall of her chest even through his armor.

She’s alive.

And Bly is going to make sure she stays that way.

-

Bly tugs at the seat restraints one last time to make sure they’re secure before closing the cockpit. General Secura is still unconscious and has remained that way since they brought her back.

“Alright Arnine,” he says, turning to the astromech he’s trusting with his General. He’s flown with Arnine a few times even though he is primarily General Secura’s droid. He’s a stubborn little thing and he’s loyal to a fault. “I need you to stay with General Secura. When she wakes up, make sure to give her the message. Can you do that?”

Arnine beeps an affirmative.

Bly places a hand on the droid’s dome. “Thanks. We’re counting on you. Take care of our General. We probably won’t be seeing you again.”

Arnine trills mournfully, but promises all the same.

Bly climbs down off the star fighter and backs away. “Get her out of here, Arnine!” he calls.

The astromech starts up the fighter and Bly forces himself to watch the ship leave the hanger. He keeps watching until the ship enters hyperspace. The ache in his head immediately lessens.

His General is out of his reach.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Aayla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual: Heed the tissue warning. There ain't no breaks on this pain train.

When Aayla wakes, the first thing she sees is white.

There's white above her and around her and it's so very, very bright. Too bright. She closes her eyes quickly, hiding from the glare.

Then she feels the pain. Her back _aches_. And she has no idea why. She has obviously been injured, but her back never aches. It's always somewhere else. Because her back is always protected by –

Aayla sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flying open.

Bly.

Crackshot.

Patch.

Tyto.

Barr.

Grip.

Pulse.

Her men.

 _Hers_.

They shot her.

She trusted them with her back – like she has done so many times throughout this war – and they shot her.

She remembered hearing them arm up. Remembered scanning the trees for the enemies they must have seen. Why else would they be arming up? But there had been no warning, no sense of danger in the Force and Aayla hadn't understood until she felt the sharp burn of a blaster bolt striking her shoulder. And then they kept shooting.

Why?

What had happened?

What had _changed_?

Aayla breathes in deeply, pushing down her panic and her pain and her confusion, and then breathes it out. She reaches out for the Force, questioning, wondering, sinking into meditation easily.

Only to nearly be knocked out the moment she enters. It is chaos. The Force is screaming with the death of thousands. The echoes of surprise, of betrayal, surround her. There is so much _pain –_

She gasps, returning to herself.

She doesn't understand.

But if her men had turned on her, who else had they turned on?

So many dead. Why is this happening?

Why is she even here at all?

Her men shot her.

The Force echoes with death.

And yet here she is.

Alive.

What had happened?

" _I'm sorry, General. Order 66, we had to. I'm so sorry."_

Bly.

Bly was apologizing.

Her Commander had looked so broken, so defeated.

Order 66 he'd said.

"Ah. You're awake."

Aayla blinks, turning to the side to see a medical droid hovering at her bedside.

"Where?" she croaks. She frowns. Her mouth is dry and her tongue feels heavy behind her teeth.

"You are at Polis Massa," the droid answers, "You arrived eight point three hours ago in a star fighter piloted by an astromech unit. You were unconscious."

Aayla's brow furrows. She doesn't remember getting in a star fighter. The last thing she recalls is passing out in the jungle surrounded by her men. Her men who had just shot her in the back.

"Your wounds were serious," the medical droid continues, "But not life threatening. You have been treated for several blaster wounds, though none of them hit anything vital."

She licks her lips before asking, "And when will I be recovered?"

"I would say about a week for full recovery," the droid answers, "Your wounds were well cared for before you arrived and your response to the becta treatment has been positive."

Aayla turns that over in her head. Her wounds had been treated. She is in a medical facility. She's alive. But her men had shot her. There's a disconnect there that doesn't make sense.

She's missing something.

"Excuse me," the medical droid calls, drawing her attention, "The astromech that you arrived with wishes to speak with you. He is quite insistent."

Aayla nods and the medical droid helps her sit up. The movement pulls at her wounds, but it isn't the physical hurt that bothers her.

Seeing Arnine roll into the room is a surprise. She blinks down at the little droid, watching as he beeps happily at her.

"Arnine?" she asks, "What happened?"

Arnine beeps, rolling back a bit. Before Aayla can question him, the droid starts playing a holo message.

Aayla stares at the image of her Commander. He's without his helmet and she can see his expression clearly. He's pale, lips pressed together in a thin line, eyes pinched in a way that she has come to recognize means that he is in pain and trying not to show it.

"Bly," she whispers.

"General," the recording says, "We don't have a lot of time. It isn't safe to keep you with us any longer. Order 66 has been issued and fighting it off is taking everything we have. Patch has already had to sedate Green and Mix. The rest of us are reaching the end of our rope."

Bly takes a slow breath, rubbing at his temples. "We broke your trust, General," he says firmly, lowering his hand and standing military straight, "You gave us your back and we shot you. Please believe me when I say we never wanted to." Bly's brow furrows and his lips tremble and all Aayla can do is stare because her Commander looks like he's three seconds away from _crying_. "We didn't want to, but we _had_ to. We had to shoot you. We – "

Bly cuts off, making a strangled sound in the back of his throat, pressing his knuckles against his mouth. He gives himself a moment before speaking again.

"Order 66 came down," he says softly, resting his hands behind his back but not before Aayla sees them shaking, "It's a contingency order that states: In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander, GAR commanders will remove those officers by legal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander until a new command structure is established."

And Aalya _stares_. The Supreme Commander ordered the slaughter of the Jedi. The Supreme Commander. The _Chancellor_. She covers her mouth in horror.

"None of us were aware of the contingency order before it was given," Bly continues, "Once it was given, it…it's like it took over. Good soldiers follow orders." He stops and Aayla can see the pain in his eyes. "It physically _hurts_ to know that you are alive in the next room and not go over and shoot you. There's this _thing_ in our head that's telling us that you need to die. And it's not shutting up. The harder we push, the louder it gets and – I'm so sorry, General. We _had_ to."

The expression on her Commander's face is so broken, so _haunted_ , that she finds herself reaching out to sooth the hurt before she's even aware of what she's doing. Her fingers connect with his image and it wavers and Aayla _aches_ because she remembers that expression. It was the expression Bly had looked at her with before she passed out from the pain. All she could feel at the time was the pain and the confusion and the betrayal of the moment. But now she looks back on that instant where she brushed against her Commander's mind in a desperate plea for answers. She remembers the absolute agony he was in – the desperate urge to break down and _beg_ for forgiveness on his knees. She remembers the loud denial and the horrified silence that echoed in quick succession in his head.

Aayla feels tears streaming down her face and she can't bring herself to care. Her Jedi calm is absolutely shattered. The Order – her _family_ – is dying and their murderers are trapped inside their heads screaming.

"Patch fixed you up as best he could," Bly says, "But we need to get you away from us before we snap. Arnine has instructions to take you to a medical facility not affiliated with the Republic. I gave him instructions to play this for you once you woke. If you're seeing this, it means you made it safely. I'm glad."

Here Bly pauses and seems to struggle with himself for a moment. "I don't think we'll be seeing you again, General. But if we do, please, _please_ , fight back. We'd never be able to forgive ourselves if we killed you."

Her Commander looks at her through the message, somehow meets her eyes. He salutes her. "It's been an honor, General," he says softly, sincerely, "May the Force be with you."

The hologram flickers out and Arnine makes a mournful sound, rolling as close to the bed as he can. Aayla reaches out and places a hand on his dome, her fingers trembling.

"Thank you, my friend," she says.

Arnine beeps at her and Aayla doesn't have the energy to try and decipher his meaning.

All she can think about is her men. Trapped. Bly's haunted eyes and broken voice. What have they done?

"Bly," she whispers, a fresh wave of tears hitting her, "How much have we broken you?"

Her Commander.

Her men.

 _Hers_.

Aayla does not like the way Bly spoke of a voice in their heads. It sounds almost like Force suggestion. But stronger. Crueler. Less a suggestion and more a command. Harder to fight off. But they had. For her.

For her they had fought this cruelty.

She will not betray that loyalty with abandonment.

The 327th is _hers_.

And Aayla is going to make sure it stays that way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the first installment of this series is over! 
> 
> Aayla and the 327th's arc is over for now. We may see them later in the future, but I haven't gotten into the aftermath of Order 66 yet - mostly still writing things about the moment the order comes down. Let me know if you want to see them again! I am slowly setting the stage for the aftermath, but there aren't many concrete plans. There is a hint in this chapter though. ;)
> 
> The next part should be up in a week!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Иначе](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284091) by [Kalgary_Nurse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgary_Nurse/pseuds/Kalgary_Nurse)




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